


they say if it's meant to be, you'll know

by softtofustew



Series: bird and a plane [1]
Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mentions of Jae's Parents, Superhero!Jae, jaepil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-20 05:10:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16130300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softtofustew/pseuds/softtofustew
Summary: wonpil shakes his head. he frowns. “noona, i met a superhero. but… i lost him.”alternatively, the rise and fall of the superhero jae and ordinary citizen wonpil throughout years to remember - and more years to fill





	they say if it's meant to be, you'll know

**Author's Note:**

> title: superhero by lauv // typed this out in one day! hope you all enjoy this.

people call it fate. meant to be. wonpil calls it a coincidence, that it so happened that  _ he _ was there at the most critical moment of five-year-old wonpil’s life. 

it's sunday, the sun's gleaming overhead, showering the boy and his older sister in the summertime sunshine. with the familiar tinkling of bells sounding across the road, wonpil's gleeful - ecstatic, even. so ecstatic that he shrugs his sister's grip off of him, and despite the shouts of “don’t! pirrie!”, races across the road. 

like all fairytales, like the very one wonpil had been admiring over just yesterday evening before falling asleep, the superhero appears to save the day. 

before the honking red car can bowl him over, time freezes. everything freezes. a whirring sound hums, somewhere, everywhere. people are frozen in time, mid-action. the car is still, stationary. a mere two inches away from wonpil's hand. 

only wonpil takes a step, confusion etched across his face. is this a movie? is this his dream? he shakes his leg a little. he can move. he feels the gravel underneath his feet as he stomps his boot down. 

what-

“wonpillie?” the voice resounds. stunned, wonpil swivels around to see a figure hovering above him - albeit, a very tall, very lanky, adolescent. flanked in a blinding red and golden suit, cape in mid-air. 

wonpil can't help but gasp. his eyes widen at the sight of the adolescent - can't be too much older than noona, he thinks - and can't form words upon his lips. “o-oh my go-od!” he stutters. 

frowning, the superhero lands on his two feet, planted onto the road. “didn't your eomma tell you before not to let go of noona?” he asks, voice smooth, like honey, just a bit raspy at the edges. wonpil thinks it sounds pretty. 

bashful at the criticism, wonpil pouts. his ears turn red. “sorry. it's just that the ice cream man is there.” with that, he points a finger at the truck parked by the other side of the walkway. 

when he turns back to look at the superhero, the latter tsks. “you kids and ice cream. whatever it is, you always have to look at the road first, okay wonpillie? look left, right, left. if there's no cars,  _ then _ only you cross the road. capiche?”

now it's wonpil's turn to frown. “what does capiche mean?” he wonders aloud. 

the superhero laughs, before running a hand through his dark brown hair. “it means, well, do you understand? do you agree with me, wonpillie?”

wonpil breaks into a wide grin. “capiche! now, can i go?”

smiling, the hero chuckles, ruffling wonpil's hair. his hand is warm, fingers long and slender. wonpil likes this feeling.

“okay. stay safe and happy, wonpillie ah,” the hero beams, before silently removing his hair. in this moment, a thought fizzes in wonpil's head. 

“wait! what's your name?” he blurts out, but he gets it out too late - he's suddenly on the other side of the sidewalk, at the ice cream truck. 

life kicks back in. the cars zoom by in a flash, the humming gone. birds titter, the sun gleams. the hero has disappeared. 

wonpil stands there, rooted to the spot, even when his sister calls his name out desperately and hugs him tight, even when he gets his double chocolate scoop in a cone.

“what happened?” his sister quizzes frantically. 

wonpil shakes his head. he frowns. “noona, i met a superhero. but… i lost him.”

 

**______________**

 

wonpil's ten when he sees the superhero again, shuddering cold in his bedroom, cheeks still splayed with dried tears. 

the humming sounds again, insistent, resonating throughout the room. outside, the leaves stop moving, the car passing by outside abruptly halts. when wonpil lifts his head from his arms, his eyes stare into those of the same superhero from five years ago.

the hero's lips turn downwards, laced with concern. “hey, wonpillie.”

wonpil bursts, outraged. throughout the entire incident, he's been pent up with his emotions, upset. mournful. angry.

“why did you save me when you didn't save appa?” wonpil screeches. he thumps his fists against the wooden floor in anger. “why? you're a hero! you're supposed to save lives. why did you save me from the car when you couldn't do it for appa?!”

the tears leak, flowing down wonpil's cheeks. he refuses to move from he's sitting on the floor, back against the bed. the hero watches on silently as wonpil adds, “you're a superhero. or are you just part of my dream?”

the hero is quiet. slowly, he sinks himself to sit beside wonpil. it's at this moment that wonpil realises how soft the other's skin is, how  _ young _ he looks - as young as he did five years ago. still a teenage boy. wonpil's lips turn downwards.

“look, kid,” the hero sighs deeply, as if defeated in a match. “my duty isn't to look after your appa; my duty is to look after you-”

“-then if you care so much about me, then couldn't you have cared about my feelings? couldn't you have saved appa if you care so much about me?” wonpil retorts, enraged. 

a silence hushes over them, the only sound being the humming enveloping the two. the superhero bites down on his lower lip. 

finally, he parts his lips. “look - i’m sorry. and i know saying sorry won't do anything. but i really am. i didn't think about it.” he stares down at their feet. to wonpil's surprise, the hero has on worn-out converses, red and white, coated with dirt. “wonpillie, you've got to stay strong, okay? stay strong for noona and eomma. you'll do good.”

with that, the hero turns to face wonpil, eyes small and beady yet shine so bright. the hero lifts his hand to wipe at the tears on wonpil's cheeks. he rubs his thumb across wonpil's cheek endearingly. 

in this moment, wonpil's heart thumps faster, harder, against his chest. he's suddenly hyperaware of how close the hero is, how soft the hero's hair looks, how gentle the hero is as he caresses wonpil's cheek. 

before wonpil can say anything though, the hero smiles at him. “you asked what my name was. call me jae.”

with that, the humming dissipates, and jae fizzles away, bit by bit, fibre by fibre, before evaporating into thin air, leaving wonpil alone in his bedroom on a once-dreary sunday evening.

 

**_______________**

 

wonpil's fifteen - school uniform wrinkled, sporting a blue-purplish bruise across his swollen cheek, hair mussy. the rain pours in torrents at the bus stop. he wrings his hands together, wondering what to tell eomma when he arrives home late - when he meets jae again. 

he feels it - the thrumming as everything silently halts. raindrops freeze in mid-air, like crystallised water in the cold air. passers-by stay rooted to the ground, umbrellas propped above them.

when wonpil glimpses up, he sees the worried look on jae's (still youthful) face. 

“wonpillie,” he takes a sharp breath. he slides onto the seat to sit beside the boy. concerned, jae cups the boy's cheeks, scanning his face. the persistent  _ thumpthumpthump _ of his heart returns. 

“i'm sorry i didn't come on time, i swear i wanted to, but-” 

“-'s fine.” wonpil leans back so jae's hands fall to his sides. the boy sniffs, wiping at his nose with the sleeve of his stiff school blazer. “you've got a one out of three probability of arriving at the right time. figures.” his voice is deeper now, but still melodious, broke with emotion. 

jae takes wonpil's hand, laying on his lap, and rubs circles over his knuckles.  _ thumpthumpthump _ . “why did you tell them?” he asks, quietly. 

wonpil shrugs. “i just wanted to. eomma and noona took the news well. i didn't know my friends would spit on me for being gay,” he mutters. “i've always been naive, anyways.”

for a few seconds, all wonpil can feel is the slow breaths of the hero beside him, the warmth of skin against skin, the chilling air around them. “why'd you come, anyways? it's not like you had to save me from a late bus.”

jae laughs humourlessly. “i had to. seeing you hurt… hurts me too.” 

wonpil glances at jae. he hasn't seen him for yet another five years, and this time, with his cleared mindset, wants the sight of him burned into his memory. jae's hair is now a dusty blonde, dark roots visible. the suit is a little frayed, the end of the cape a bit tattered. rose-gold rimmed glasses perch at the tip of his nose. yet, the eyes are the same, the slope of his nose, high cheekbones. full lips. 

the younger versions of himself wouldn't have thought of anything, but now, wonpil is sat here, staring at jae. admiring how pretty he is in a new light, as if seeing him for the first time. 

jae must've read his mind, because he parts his lips in an 'o’ shape. “pillie, i… do you w-want to… um.” he chews on his lower lip, and wonpil can't help but giggle. how boyish the hero is still surprises wonpil after all these years. 

“why do you look so young, jae?” wonpil asks. 

jae hums to himself. “been like that for a while now.” wonpil frowns at how the boy avoids the question, but instead lets it slide. they don’t have much time.

“how old are you?”

jae grins. “nineteen. you're fifteen this year, right?” wonpil nods his head.

“okay.” wonpil's smile grows bigger. the space between them closes a little more. “okay, wonpillie.”

the kiss is bittersweet, tasting of mint, salt and a tinge of the rain. wonpil whimpers through their lips as jae cups the boy's cheeks, as the younger wraps his arms around the hero. the glasses dig into wonpil's skin, but he ignores it - kisses jae with all his might. comes to admit that those recurring dreams he has at night are all of the same suit, same cape, same face, same smile. 

when they part, jae chuckles. he flicks wonpil's nose, causing to abruptly yowl. “i'll try and visit,” jae claims. 

“you have to promise me you will, though,” wonpil prods. the other simply chuckles again, before kissing him on the cheek.

“promise. i'll be back soon. capiche?”

for the first time in a while, wonpil grins so wide it melts jae's heart. “capiche.”

 

**_______________**

 

it's only when wonpil's nineteen that he sees jae again. 

by now, he's lost all hope - juggled college with a few night flings, doesn't feel the attraction, the attachment with any one of them.

it's sunday when he finishes up his assignment, has proofread it and sent it to his teacher. he stretches his arms up and over his head, the muscles in his back sore as he does so.

his computer freezes. the humming is softer, quieter. 

wonpil doesn't dare to spin around, but his feet will him to - the roller chair swivels around and his eyes land on the boy sat at the edge of the bed. but before wonpil can say anything, he's stunned by how wrecked jae looks. 

the cape is almost torn, the seams barely holding the cloth together. the sleeves of the suit look burnt, and the converses on his feet are caked with mud. there's sweat on the boy's brows, and tears down his cheeks. 

“wonpillie.” jae sighs shakily. “wonpillie.”

 

**_______________**

 

admittedly, jae had wanted to come and visit wonpil. after all, he's wonpil's guardian hero - once he'd stepped into wonpil's life all those years ago, there was no stepping back. 

it doesn't mean wonpil's the only one he has to save. 

it's wretched, really, the whole superhero bravado - he darts from canada to save a campsite from a wildfire, all the way to new zealand to catch a girl from falling off of a ten-storey building, back to poland to save a dastardly plan of hijacking a plane. 

it's months to no end, of relentlessly saving people. jae wonders how many people there even are in the superhero industry - why does it seem like  _ he's _ the only one?

yesterday night was the worst in a while - a plotter scheming to bomb a building up in london. he'd gotten thrown into a pool of mud, arm-to-arm with the bomber himself, narrowly missing a gunshot to the head. 

it scared him. knowing that the fate of hundreds of people constantly laid in his hands. 

he's in the bathroom now, shivering as wonpil detaches the cape from his shoulders, setting it down. the tears haven't stopped flowing from the corners of his eyes, too traumatised to say anything, even when wonpil sheepishly unzips the front of the suit top. 

“hey,” wonpil murmurs softly. jae looks at him - the years have done good to him. the boy's chubby cheeks are now sharp, high cheekbones, fluffy hair pushed off of his forehead; yet his features are still as gentle as a boy's, all sinewy muscles, narrow shoulders and soft smile. 

jae watches the pink blush fall over wonpil's face as the suit top clatters to the floor. jae's skin is pale, milky white, and smooth. lanky, with not much muscle but not skinny. 

over the years, the small flower in his heart had blossomed into one with more want, more desire, and standing in front of jae today, wonpil's heart beats faster than before. even with every other guy he'd come to meet over the past four years, none of them, not even one, could beat jae and his big heart and godsent looks.

finally, their gazes meet. “you okay now?” wonpil whispers, tone hushed. his hands are on jae's shoulders, rubbing the sore muscles there. 

jae nods silently. before him, the younger hums, before swiping at the tears on jae's cheeks - an act that takes them back nine years, and the nostalgia fills the both of them up. 

wonpil washes him under the shower head, albeit one with jae's suit pants still on, but the warm water rinses over jae's mud-caked hair and shoulders. slowly, bit by bit, the tenseness in his muscles ebb away with every small caress of wonpil's hands on jae's back. 

later, wonpil leaves him to dress in his clothes, and has to refrain himself from swooning when the older emerges at the doorway. he's dressed a sweater (supposedly oversized for wonpil, but perfect for jae) and sweatpants (that end way, way above his ankles, but it's not something jae's about to fuss over). wonpil offers a small grin, before patting the space beside him on the mattress. 

the bed sinks, groaning under jae's weight as the hero settles into a position. he curls up beside wonpil, and they stay like that for a while, wonpil's fingers stroking the other's damp hair quietly. 

it's this moment that wonpil realises something. “the sound’s gone,” he realises aloud. the humming has dissipated, replaced with a honk from a passing car outside, the crickets chittering past his windowsill. 

jae nods. “i started the clock again.”

wonpil turns to face him. “why?”

“just. because,” jae shrugs. without his suit on, he's even younger, features sharp with that childish demeanour. his fingers curl around the hem of the sweater. 

the younger reaches out to place his palm over jae's knuckles. “do you mind beginning from the start? i… i’ve got so many questions. i don't want to overwhelm you.”

with those words, jae can't help but smile radiantly. “no worries. you can ask me anything. capiche?”

_ capiche.  _

it's within the next hour that wonpil finds out everything he has never known about jae: that his family line, based in incheon, has always been a part of the superhero industry, that jae had stepped up to take the job at the age of nineteen after finishing college, that jae had taken anti-aging daily potions to stay youthful as he is now, that jae had to deal with immense pressure every day, saving thousands of lives worldwide every year. 

“wow,” wonpil finally breathes. “that's… a lot of stuff to take in.”

“yeah,” jae winces. “it's all great and stuff at first… then you get involved in more serious situations that take a huge toll on you.”

wonpil frowns. “if you don't want this life, can't you just pull out? resign?”

in response, jae simply lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “i want to. when you were fifteen, i wanted to. but i’m scared my folks will exile me. it runs in the blood, this hero thing.”

“well,” wonpil shifts his weight slightly so his face is only a few inches from jae's. their breaths mingle in the night air. “it's your life to lead. not theirs. your life to control. not theirs. do what you want. capiche?”

and wonpil says all this so genuinely that it's cute, and because it's cute, it's irresistibly difficult to restrain jae himself from leaning forward to kiss wonpil on the lips. 

well, it's _his_ life to live, _his_ choice to make as he scoots over, capturing wonpil's lips in a kiss. surprised, wonpil squeals, which makes him even more adorable than ever as jae shifts their positions. he hovers over wonpil, not even caring about using his flying powers as he cages wonpil. 

sometime between the kisses and pecks against soft skin throughout the night, jae manages to grin against wonpil's thin lips. “capiche.”

 

**_______________**

 

it's only a week later when wonpil sees jae stride out of a cab to meet him at the bus stop. he's suitless, capeless, hair ruffled up in the wind as he saunters towards wonpil. 

he's a teen - young, ambient, dressed in a white tee and ripped denim jeans that show off the milky skin underneath - wonpil swoons over as jae presses his lips against wonpil's in a silent “hello”. 

“hey yourself,” wonpil chuckles. he watches jae. “i gather it went well?”

jae sighs, shoving his hands into his pockets defeatedly. “a lecture or two, but, well. my folks understood. didn't exile me. i guess i'm gonna take a gap year to get used to mortal life now, then see where i go for uni.”

“sounds like a plan,” wonpil giggles, before throwing his arms over jae in a tight embrace. when they pull back, wonpil takes jae's hand. “start anew with me. cross the street with me. i know a good coffeehouse downtown.”

“capiche,” jae laughs, and wonpil leads the way. 

_ left, right, left.  _

  
  
  


  
  


**Author's Note:**

> giggle with me:  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/softtofustew_) // [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/softtofustew_) // [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/softtofustew)


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